Miss Independent
by Just-Like-Ginny
Summary: Emma is leaving for Harvard! She's glad to leave the town and people that deserted her. She’s the only one going to any schools near Boston and knows she’s going to get a fresh start. Until she sees the two people she thought she’d never see again.
1. Saying Goodbye Isn't Easy

**Author's note: This story was written back in season 5, before Emma's eating disorder. So anything involving that, or Manny's discovery of Peter and Emma, or the latter is not canon in this fan fiction.**

Thanks for reading!

Spike's POV:

I cannot believe the moment I have been dreading since eighth grade is here. My little girl—my baby is going to college in the states. Of course I'm proud of her for buckling down during her last two years of high school and getting into Harvard. But I'll be missing her so much.

It seems like just yesterday I was walking out of that office, Shane holding my hand tightly, and telling my mother she was going to be a grandmother. It was just yesterday I was holding the little bundle in my arms for the first time.

It has hurt me so much to see all the pain she has recently gone through. Yet there was nothing I could do for her. But she threw herself into work, and look where that's brought us.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you move in, baby?" The fully grown girl gives me a small half smile. That's all she gives anymore. I haven't seen a real smile cross over her lips for three years. She shakes her head lightly, sending her blond hair side to side. This is the first time she's even brushed through her hair in a year. She'd given up on life. That's the only reason I'm happy to watch my baby leave this town.

"I'll be home for Thanksgiving, Mom. I love you." With that, she closes her trunk, pressing it down with all of her strength. She walks over and gives me a kiss, which I acknowledge with a small smile, similar to the one I had just witnessed on her face, and gets into the front seat of her car.

"I love you, too. Call everyday."

She laughs, though still only having that same half smile on her face. "I will. Take care of my brother. I want to see some fat on those bones the next time I see him." I see a tear roll down her cheek, though she tries to hide it. "I'm stopping by the cemetery on my way out of town."

I nod, tears entering my eyes, as well. I stand cross-armed, refusing to allow myself to show emotion. My weakness increases her weakness. "Tell Snake that I love him and I'm sorry." She nods, wipes the tears from her eye, and finally pulls out of the driveway, headed towards success and happiness for the first time in years.


	2. Graves and Tears

Emma's POV:

The tears are starting to fall as I pull out of my old driveway, making it difficult to drive. I can feel my hands shaking the wheel, and making the car unsteady. These tears fall for my family, alone. All of my "friends" ditched me a year and a half ago just because Manuela found out about Peter, who then moved away with his father. And that's why I couldn't care less about leaving her, James, or Darcy behind. I may miss Toby a little. He was at least nice to me. Well, he didn't make fun of me—to my face. And that's better than anyone else.

I pull into the grass parking lot of the cemetery, leaving shallow muddy tracks where the wheels dug into the land, and turn off the engine. I just sit there silently for a moment, taking deep breaths. With one last breath, longer and stronger than the others, I finally lift myself from the car, and take the familiar route towards Mr. Sim—Sna—Dad's gravestone, alone for the first time. I can almost feel my legs falling from under me, although I know I'd appear to have complete control from the outside, my arms wrapped around myself, keeping the warm in, even though it's still summer. I'm freezing. Maybe it's not the weather.

Flowers of every color still fill the area around the stone. There were so many people at the funeral, and all avoided me. Every single student there came, placed flowers nearby, and left. Nobody said a word to me. I sigh. Why am I so selfish? I'm standing feet away from the place Dad is buried, staring intently at the stone, and I'm only thinking about myself. How low can I get?

I take another deep breath, and kneel by the stone. There goes my only clean pair of pants. "Hey, Dad. It's Emma. I'm on my way to Harvard. I just wanted to stop by and say goodbye. I love you. I'm sorry for not believing you when you apologized. Mom is too. I think she's blaming herself for your accident. If she had just let you stay—anyway, we really miss you and we know now that what you and Ms. Hatzilakos had really was just a kiss and nothing more." I take another breath, throwing my legs to the left side of my body, and completely destroying my jeans. I'll have to change before meeting people. "Anyway, about college. I already told you I got into Harvard. Nobody else from Degrassi will be nearby, so I'll be able to start from scratch, which is really important to me. I'll actually have friends again." The tears start to fall again. I can almost feel the redness in my cheeks, my eyes bloodshot. Damn. And I hadn't cried in so long. "I just wanted to stop by and tell you that Mom and I—we love you. We always will." I kiss the stone, as if it were my dad. I then just sit there, staring at the grey rock for about ten minutes, which is when my watch beeps. "I have to go. My future awaits."

I stand up slowly, wiping some tears from my eyes and start to walk away, not looking back. I can't look back. I have to just keep walking to my car, ignoring everything I pass—including Rick's stone. I catch a glimpse of it as I'm nearing my car. I'm tempted to walk over, but I can't. The memory will hurt too much. I can't do it. I have to just keep looking straight ahead—towards the car. I can't even think about the stone I'm trying to avoid, only fifteen feet away from where I'm walking.

But before I know it, I'm kneeling down on the ground once again, rubbing my hand over the letters engraved on the grey stone. Why don't I hate him? I should despise this boy. So why don't I? Everything bad that happened in the past three years could have been avoided if I hadn't started that stupid protest, or split up that fight. But then I never would have been able to look myself in the mirror again. I guess I was doomed to be miserable no matter what I did. But at least I would have been the only one unhappy if I had just stayed out of it.

But that's not true, is it? I only got involved because I saw how much it was hurting Paige. But when did I ever care about Paige? Ever since she needed me. Ugh. I hate being "little miss save the world" but I hate NOT being "little miss save the world". I hate that knick name! Only because Jason made it, but still. Even if Manuela or James made it. Well, now I would hate it, even in that case. Not then. At the time, I would have thought it was cute. Whatever. I'm done living in the past.

I stand, not taking my eyes off the name on the stone. "Richard Murray. Loving son and friend." I can't help but laugh. Loving friend? Some friend—bringing a gun to school and trying to shoot people. Forcing the only person who cared about him to watch him almost kill his friend, then die. Taking away a friend's ability to play the only sport—the only thing that's ever made him happy. Yeah. That's a loving friend, isn't it?

I finally look away, turning around and taking the last few steps to my car. Thank god I'm getting my ass out of this dumb town. I can't stay here another minute. I'm practically about to explode.

Once I'm out of the cemetery's lot, it takes about two minutes until I'm finally on my way to a new land. It's going to be a long ride. Is it worth it? Am I seriously even asking that?


	3. Stolen

**Reminder: this was started** **in season 5 so anything involving Emma's anorexia or anything occurring after that on the ahow is not canon in this story**.

Emma's POV:

I'm about halfway to school when I get too tired to drive anymore. I know my limits, unlike most kids my age. So I pull over at the rest stop. Luckily, this is one of the few with a hotel.

I pull into the almost deserted lot and park the car. There are no cars to either side, so I can swing the door open and literally hop out. I decide to leave all of my stuff in the car. I'll only be sleeping for a couple of hours, so it really doesn't matter. I have my cell phone and credit card so that's all I'll need for the short night.

I walk into the hotel and look around. I'm not exactly sure I can afford this. The red velvet couches on either side of the door scream "money" and the red carpet shows that some Hollywood stars must have stayed here. The glass tables holding flowers in the center of each add to the expensive touch. I stroll up to the main desk, letting a long yawn escape from my mouth. The tall, black haired man peers down at me. "May I help you?"

"Yes. How much would it cost to have a room for the night?"

The man types some stuff into his computer. You'd think he knows how much a room costs. I mean, he has to get the question a lot, right? "It would be $108."

I nod, and reach into my pocket to grab my credit card. Just my luck—I left it in the car. "I'll be right back." I turn around and run back outside, ignoring the elegant eyes following my questionable trot. It's raining now. At least the mud on my jeans is getting washed away.

When I get out to the parking lot, the car appears to be gone. I'm sure I parked it next to the black minivan. The rain mixes with the sweat now escaping from every inch of my body as I run around the lot, obviously searching for what's long gone. No. I just forgot where I left it. I keep running around the lot, my pace growing faster and more random each second. But it's not there. Shit. I had to have left the keys in the ignition. I'm so out of it. I collapse onto the ground, unable to even cry. I can't believe this. Everything's gone—my car, credit card, clothes, toiletries—everything. I grab my cell phone, not knowing what else to do. Pressing the button, nothing happens. Not thinking, I smack it on my leg, but nothing happens. Wouldn't you know it? It's dead.

I turn back around and run inside, the tears finally escaping down my cheeks. And I was going to be happier away from home? This isn't the best start, is it? I run up to the man at the desk. "Could I use your phone?"

He sneers at me. "That will be extra 25 extra dollars."

I can't help it. I explode, screaming as loud as my shaky, teary voice will let me. "Listen, Mr. My car was just stolen. I had everything I own in that car. I'm on my way to Harvard University, my cell phone's dead, and all I have are the dirty, ugly clothes I swore I'd never wear again after today. I need to use your phone." He stands there, gaping for a moment, but finally steps aside, letting me behind the counter and to the phone. "Thank you."

I type in the digits quickly, and it rings two and a half times before Mom answers, with her sweet, over tired voice. "Hello?"

"Hey Mom, it's me. I need some help."

"What's wrong, honey?"

The tears return, shaking my voice again. "The car was stolen."

She gasps. What was I expecting? "Did you call the police?"

I shake my head, even though I know she can't see me. "Not yet. I was going to do that next. But could you please come? I need a ride to school."

I can already hear her gathering her things. I really don't give her enough credit. "Sure. Where are you?"

"I'm at the Glenville hotel. Oh, and could you bring me some of the clothes I left there, and some money? I left everything in the car."

"Sure, baby. But you didn't leave a lot of clothes here. I'll be right there." We both hang up. I'm still crying. What a horrible first day away. The sad thing is—I'd still choose this over staying in that town any day. I know it sounds stupid. Everyone's changed so much since the beginning of Degrassi. Mostly for the worst. I hate it. I hate everything about the school—that whole town. I hate the people, the school district, and especially the memories. The bad memories hurt, but the good memories kill, because those are the ones I won't forget. But it's all fake. My whole life up to this point has been one big lie. And now I get to live for real—it just sucks that it had to start out this... real.

When I finally suck it up, I pick up the phone again, this time dialing 9-1-1. "Hello. What is your emergency?"

"My car's been stolen. I'm at—"

"We'll have people there right away." Oh, right. They know where you're calling from before they even answer the phone. The line goes dead. Damn. That was—not what I expected.

I have one call left to make—to the credit card agency. "Hello. My name is Emma Nelson. I would like to turn off my card." I give them all the information that they ask for. By the time I'm done with that, the police are here.

I can see everyone in the hotel getting nervous to see police officers walking around. They have no idea what's going on. They walk over and talk to me. I answer questions truthfully. It's the normal stuff—the same type of questions I had to answer after the shooting. My mind's only half in it. I'm thinking more about how I'm supposed to go to school without any supplies and limited clothes. "Alright. I think we have enough. Thank you, ma'am. I hope we catch the guy." I nod, and the officers leave.

The man behind the desk walks over. "I spoke to my supervisor. You may have a room for free."

I'm taken aback. Is this the same guy that I met when I first came in here? "I couldn't impose on you like that."

He shakes his head. "I insist. You've had a rough night."

I smile, thanking him, but add, "At least let me pay you something when my mother arrives with the little I left at home." We agree, and shake on it. He gives me a key to room 203, which I walk to immediately. I open the door and sigh. Definitely not the best room in the hotel. The paintings are crooked, there are holes in the comforter, and mold all over the walls. But it's certainly better than any alternative I may have, and my mom will be hours. I have no choice. I pull the covers down from the bed and just collapse. I'm asleep within seconds.


	4. It's No Easier the Second Time

Spike's POV:

I grab everything I can out of Emma's closet and throw it all into a small suitcase. It's not much—she brought basically everything she owned with her. I really don't understand what happened. Did she leave her keys in the car? I thought I taught her better than that. I sigh. There's nothing I can do about any of that now. I should probably bring her some loose change.

I grab some money off the counter, and slip it into the front pouch of the suitcase, not even looking at what I'm doing. I'm just walking, determined to help Emma no matter what it takes. Then I head out the door and over to my car. As I throw everything into the back seat, JT, Manny, Liberty, and Toby drive by. They're all driving JT to college, since his school starts far before any of the others'. I don't bother asking where they're all going to school. It doesn't matter, anyway. I only care about my daughter at this point.

Manny rolls down the window, revealing her recently grown out hair, similar to how she had it in ninth grade. "Hey, Spike." I wish she wouldn't call me that. That name is reserved for my friends and my children's friends. But I never specifically told Manny that, did I?

"Hey, Manny. Have fun this weekend." I smile at her. It's the same half smile I've been seeing everyday recently. "But not too much." Her face flushes, remembering her Freshman year. I can't help but laugh. She came to me—her best friend's mother—that year. I wish she still could.

JT's eyes land on the suitcase landing on the seat. "Emma forget something?"

I glance down at the bag, even though I know what he's looking at. "Long story. I'm late. I have to go."

"We could bring it to her," Liberty adds, trying to seem sincere, but failing miserably.

Like I'd trust them after what I know they've put her through. They actually think this act will work on me? I was their age only 15 years ago. They don't seem to remember that, do they? "Nah. You don't know where she is." Besides, they're going in the completely opposite direction. I'm not an idiot. I may not have gone to college, but I'm smarter than they take me for. "How's Ben?"

Liberty and JT both look upset. They're staring at the ground as if trying to count how many pebbles there are. "Umm... we haven't seen him in six months. His Adoptive parents took away our rights. It seems he was getting too attached."

My face must be flushing white. As my eyebrows rise to the top of my face, my eyes following close behind, practically popping out of my head with how wide they're open. I knew that, too. I can't believe I forgot. "Oh, right. I'm so sorry." They just nod, turn towards the front, and drive off, now sad. I'm wondering why Toby didn't say anything. Well, Emma always said he never made fun of her. I just didn't realize that meant he never talked at all.

I close the back door, and climb into the driver's seat, grabbing my keys from my pocket. I turn on the ignition, and I'm off.

I pass by the cemetery, trying not to look at it. I don't have time to stop. My baby needs me. Snake has to understand. He's always understood. Well, besides that whole thing with his boss, who just had to flaunt her—alright, only happy thoughts. He apologized, and if I'd only accepted, he wouldn't be underground right now. Six feet under. Every single person in this damn town missing him like crazy. He had that affect on people. I never really understood how. But I'll never forget the night it happened. The night I will regret for the rest of my life. The night which left him out of the rest of my life.

Before I know it, I'm pulling into the Glenville hotel. I see police talking to the man at the front desk, who's saying something about calling up to the room. "And tell her that her mother's here," I add.

The man glances over, making eye contact with me, before dialing something on the hotel phone. After a few seconds he says, "I'm so sorry to disturb you, ma'am. But the police and your mother are here." A couple of seconds later, he's off the phone, telling everyone, "She'll be down momentarily."

A couple officers walk over to me, preparing for rough questioning. "You're the girl's mother?" I nod, obviously not wanting to answer questions. I hardly even know anything. But I don't really have a choice. "What did the girl tell you?"

I sigh. "Not much. Just that the car was stolen, and she told me to bring her some clothes and stuff. She was on her way to Harvard, and—"

"Was her passport in the car?" I freeze. I didn't even think about that. She can't get into the States without her passport.

"Everything but my uncharged cell phone and the clothes I'm wearing were in the car." We all turn around quickly. My little girl locks eyes with me, tears filling her eyes. "Can I still go to school?" Starting to cry, I shake my head. "Great. So I'm stuck in that hell hole excuse for a town until they find my car?"

"Not necessarily," one of the officers announces. Everyone looks over, even the cops seem confused at what this man is thinking. "If you are able to convince us that your intentions are pure, we will be able to escort you into the United States of America without a passport." Then he turns to me. "Do you happen to have a passport on you?"

My face flushes again. "I never thought I'd need one." So basically I could get into the States with them, but not get back. My home is in Canada. Then I turn to Emma, apologetic eyes showing through. I hate to do this to her. "You were planning on going without me, anyway." I hand her the suitcase in my hand. "Here. Go learn your stuff. Keep me informed about the car and everything."

She gives me a tight squeeze. "Thanks, Mom. I will." She then goes back to speaking with the police officers, and I turn and walk out the door.

That's the second time today I had to bid farewell to my little girl. It's not any easier the second time, believe me. It may have even been harder, because she was departing in a much worse condition than the first. It really hurts to leave her in a situation like this, alone. But she's a smart girl. Far smarter than I could ever even wish to be. I know she'll be alright. If she wasn't, she wouldn't be the little girl I'd been admiring her whole life.


	5. Home At Last

Emma's POV:

So I arrive at school in a Canadian cop car. Not exactly the entrance I was hoping for. But at least they let me change first. Now I'm wearing pink sweat pants and my old blue cami. Not the worst of outfits, but I left it home for a reason. I never wanted to wear this shirt again. It reminds me of Manuela, who I do not want to think about while I'm here.

The car stops in front of the school. Nobody's in sight, which is really weird. I was expecting this place to be storming with new faces. The officer who was in the passenger's seat opens the car door for me. I really wish he wouldn't do that. I'm not a prisoner. Wait—I look down. Oh, right. There are no inside handles on police cars. The prisoners could get away. Duh. So, anyway, I bring one leg out of the car, followed by the other, then lift myself up, being sure to have a firm grasp on my small, insignificant bag of unwanted clothes. I stare at the school, taking everything in. Feeling the light breeze pick up my finally dry hair, moving it all to the left side of my face. Not a thought going through my head.

The officer appears to feel very sorry for me. He clears his throat, softly. "Could we help you with anything?" He gestures to his partner.

I shake my head, still staring at the large, overpowering buildings surrounding me and making me feel small and inferior. "No. I only have this one little bag now."

He nods, opening his own door to climb back in. "We'll be sure to get in touch with you when we find your car." He emphasizes the word "when" as if it's a certainty. But I know it's not. It never is. I smile a half smile—which I've grown accustomed to. I'm not sure I know what a real smile is anymore. And I nod my head slowly. It's my normal response to anyone not mocking me.

As I begin my walk, feet dragging, towards the larger, brick building that I'm assuming is the Freshman check-in area, I can hear the soft sound of the cop car's engine starting and the car leaving me behind. I don't look back. Never again will I look back. Because looking back is like going to the past. And the past is a place I just don't want to be in.

I enter the practically deserted office. Only one woman sits by a table. She looks as if about to fall into a deep sleep, her long brown hair just starting to fall over her deep blue eyes. She straightens up when she sees me struggling to make my feet follow the rest of my body towards the desk she sits at. "Name?"

I tense up, staring at her as if she's insane. No—as if I don't believe what's happening. This is real, isn't it? I really never have to enter that high school again. I'm really in one of the best colleges in the world, with no Degrassi students around. It's all real. "Umm... Emma Nelson. I'm supposed to be rooming with—"

"Nicole Alexander." I nod. "Sorry. The rooms were switched. Long story which I'm not permitted to discuss. I hope that's okay." I nod my head, shyly. I wasn't too thrilled about rooming with that Nicole girl, anyway. We had talked on the phone a couple of times. She seemed—Manuela-like. Enough said. "Your new roommate is named Brigit Johnson. Be advised that she doesn't know about the switch yet, so she'll think your name is Sarah." I nod again, not knowing what other movement or sound would be appropriate. The woman rummages through a manila folder, removing a credit card-like object on a string, attached to a small piece of metal, which I'm assuming is my room key.

She holds up the card. "This is your entrance into your dorm building. This will not get you into any buildings but your dorm building and the lunch area. Any meal plans you may have—the information is on the card." She picks up some papers, obviously, looking to see if there is anymore information she should be giving me. "You're in that building right over there," she's pointing out the window behind her, to another brick building, not nearly the size of this one, "room 109. The normal metal key is your entrance into the room. There is one bathroom for the floor, and it's co-ed. I hope that's not a problem." I hesitate, but shake my head, with uncertainty. I guess there are worse things than a co-ed bathroom.

"Oh, and freshman orientation begins at 9:00 am tomorrow. So get your rest." She looks around, obviously searching for my things. "Did you already get some assistance with your bags?"

My face turns red, as I shake my head. "I had a little problem on my ride up here. That's why I'm so late. Umm... my things should be arriving within a few days." I pause. "Hopefully." That last word is quiet. I don't want to seem like I don't even have control over my own belongings. How will I ever fit in? "If that's it..."

"Yes, you may leave. Remember to get some rest. Early start tomorrow, and some of the teachers will be helping with orientation. You don't want the first impression of you to be your sleeping while they are speaking." _Then maybe you can stop talking so I can meet my roommate and get some sleep,_ I think, while only nodding my head, like I have so many times already. This woman must think I have a problem. All I can do is move my head up and down and up and down.

The woman closes the folders on her desk, signaling that I can leave. As I step out the door, I slip the string that the keys are on over my head, and look for the building that the woman said would be my home for the next few months.

I put the card up to the grey box, placed next to the door. I hear a soft, slightly comforting beep, letting me know I may enter. Opening the door, I can see a long, white hallway surrounding the walk I'll be making almost each and everyday day for the next four years. That is, if I don't freak out and quit by then. And if every day goes the way this day did, I just might be headed that way.


	6. First Impressions

Emma's POV

White. That's all I can see as I stroll through my dorm area. The white walls, white door, reflecting the pink and blue of my outfit. I feel like bubblegum—pink and blue. White, pink and blue. Where is all the movement? It's only—I glance at my watch. It's already 4:30 am. I must have been at that hotel longer than I thought.

I approach the big black "109", telling me that I'm home. Girly, over-exaggerated laughter flows through the hole between the door and the carpet, and into my ears. Oh, no. What am I about to walk in on? I slowly knock on the door, giving warning of my arrival. I hear a quiet, "I have to go, Tank." I can't help laughing lightly. What kind of name is Tank? "I think my roommate's at the door." Oh, so I guess she was just on the phone.

A couple seconds later, the door opens slowly, revealing the girl I will be living with for almost nine months. She looks a little Darcy—straight hair, a little longer than shoulder length, pure brown eyes, similar to my own, and she's very thin. Her face is a little more narrow than Darcy's and she has an elegance about her that I can't really place on any of my Degrassi girls. My eyes fall on a beauty mark just below her right eyebrow. It's one of those ones where as hard as you try, you can't look in the person's eyes—only at the mark. A feeling of pure guilt crosses through my heart, and I force my stare into her eyes.

She smiles, a friendly, welcoming smile. "Hey, Sarah."

I shake my head. "Umm... it's Emma, actually. They switched the roommates."

She looks confused, but tries to hide it, stepping aside to let me in. "Oh, well I'm Brigit Johnson. Welcome... home." Her eyes land on my small suitcase. "The rest of your stuff on the way up or something?"

I can feel my face fall. "Long story. This is all I have right now. I'm hoping the rest will arrive soon, though."

She nods, walking over and sitting on the bed that she claimed for herself. "I hope you don't mind, I took the bed by the window." I nod, saying that it's fine, and she smiles. It's a smile of acceptance. As if I passed her friendship test just by saying she could sleep by the window. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Emma. Emma Nelson."

She scrunches her nose. "I knew a girl named Emma once. I didn't like her too much. I cannot have a roommate that reminds me of Emma." She thinks for a moment. "What's your middle name?"

This girl seems a little strange. "Umm... Christine?"

"What, you're not sure?" I stare blankly, but she just chuckles, and goes on. "Okay. Emma Christine. EC. Easy." What is she doing? "Easy bake oven? No. Easy Mac?" A wide smile grows on her face. "Welcome home, Mac." Wait—did she just change my name? Okay, I'm a little confused.

"Mac?" I shrug, as if to say 'whatever'. "I like it."

She smiles, climbing under her covers. "I'm glad." After a long, probably exaggerated yawn, she adds, "I'm going to sleep. We'll have a roommate bonding day tomorrow afternoon?" I smile politely and nod, still using that same half smile. "Alright. Night." She closes her eyes, falling to sleep.

Sighing deeply, I throw my bag on my bed, and begin to unpack. Thankfully, my mom thought to throw some bedding in the suitcase. Otherwise, it would be a long and uncomfortable night. I start to take out the light pink, sixteen-year-old, hole-filled sheets that I grew out of about eight years ago.

After brushing my teeth, putting the little clothes I have into a single drawer, and looking over the morning's schedule, I finally lie down in my newly made bed. It's 5:15 by this time, so I only have about two and a half hours to sleep. It would help if I was able to sleep. Instead, I'm just laying here, staring at the white ceiling. More white. How I will despise the color in a few months time. I'm starting to, already. Then again, maybe I'll love it. Right now, it's starting to get on my last nerve.

I decide to listen to some music to help me sleep. It has always worked in the past. Kelly Clarkson's voice fills my ears as "Miss Independent" comes through my headphones. As I listen to the words—how she's going to be independent. No guys will have any effect on her. She'll have her fun, but nothing more. This is who I want to be. I can't let myself get caught up in a relationship while in college. I'll party a little like a normal person. I'll hook up, sure. But I'm not getting attached. This year, no guys are entering my heart. At this moment, I'm building a wall around it. Only blood and oxygen can pass through. No feelings. Not this year.

I just wish love wasn't such a nemesis.


End file.
